I’m learning the new language of love
It’s cloudy and I’ve only
broken sentences
unfortunately already-fluent in the tongue of
drunk hook-ups and
meaningless touches and
compromised endeavors and
disguised intentions

I have never felt what I was promised
I want to bathe myself in it
showers
pools
seas of infatuation
if it exists
desperate for affection
addicted to the idea that a soul could long for me
craving something
anything


something a little better than the french boy
panting I love you’s in broken english
mistaking my moans for those of intense, bearable pleasure

something a little more meaningful than the taxi-yellow lit disabled toilet on new years eve with a boy who flinched at the marks on my thighs

something a little sturdier than the 4:am coitus cuddling with a boy trying not to wake our friends on the shadowy bedroom floor

unreliable arousal
am I unfairly deprived?